Cleansing Fire
by StarWings009
Summary: Voldemort won the war and conquered magical Britain. But he'd been playing a very long game, and no-one expected the results.


Lord Voldemort smiled as he gazed at the Potter house through the broken Fidelius Charm. Dumbledore probably thought he would march in and murder the Potters before moving onto their child. At which point, some unknown power would defeat him. Snape had been helpful, really, he had, but it was Rookwood who'd brought him the full prophecy once he'd ordered the man to fetch it from the Hall of Prophecy on hearing Snape's partial rendition of it. He wasn't going to risk falling victim to whatever power the prophecy child possessed. He wasn't an idiot; he knew that prophecies were real, and that attempting to interpret or circumvent them only ever made things worse.

Besides, he would never harm a child. Whatever else he had done, however deep the oceans of blood he'd waded through, deliberately harming a child was far beyond even his moral event horizon. He even tried to avoid orphaning children as much as he could, though he would not hesitate to kill a parent in a battle if he had to.

He stared at the house for another moment and then raised his wand and cast the most dangerous spell in his massive arsenal: The Fidelius Curse.

When used on a building or location, it permanently trapped those inside it, preventing them from leaving without his permission. It was unique in that no wards could stop it, and no spells could break it, as the secret was sealed inside his soul, much like the Fidelius Charm. When used on a person or creature, it had a much more devastating effect: it blocked all their senses, leaving them completely unable to perceive the world around them, even through telepathy or mage sight. The best part? It could not be dodged or even stopped, not by any shield, spell, or physical barrier. All it required was a second of sight.

Casting it on a house was mild by comparison. He didn't have to kill the Potters to get rid of them. Until he lifted the curse, they would be completely trapped. He smiled slightly and disapparated, reappearing a moment later outside Longbottom Manor and repeating the process. Now, with both of his targets dealt with, he returned to Riddle Manor and composed a letter, asking his old enemy Albus Dumbledore for a one-on-one meeting to discuss peace terms.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore smiled as he read the letter. It seemed that Tom was finally seeing the Light. Perhaps he could be made to see the Greater Good now, as well. This was good. Very good. Briefly, he considered bringing backup secretly, then discarded the idea. Ordinarily, he would have, but Tom was sure to realize they were there, no matter how cleverly he hid them, and then he would blow his chance of bringing the Dark Lord back to the Light. He smiled again, and began making preparations.

* * *

The old fool arrived right on schedule in the windy meadow in northern Scotland. Voldemort grinned, fingering his wand. Time for his penultimate strike. "Ah, Albus, I see you honored my terms."

"It is only common courtesy, Tom," Dumbledore answered. "It would be most impolite to not come alone."

"Indeed. However, I'm afraid there will be no discussion. Goodbye, Albus Dumbledore." And with that, he whipped his wand up and cast the Fidelius Curse on the old meddler. Dumbledore screamed and slumped to the ground as the curse took effect, the Elder Wand dropping from his nerveless fingers. Voldemort smiled and summoned it, then cast a powerful dark cutting curse with it that removed Dumbledore's head in a shower of blood. As its previous wielder died, he felt the Wand's immense power change allegiance and flow through him with the force of a cyclone. He smiled and raised it to the sky, casting the Dark Mark into the heavens. Then, he pocketed his own wand, picked up Dumbledore's head, and disapparated.

He reappeared a moment later in the Ministry of Magic, standing on top of the suddenly silent Fountain of Magical Brethren, shocking the crowds of witches and wizards. Aurors shouted and cast curses at him, but all were stopped several feet from him by a powerful shield. A moment later, the wand of everyone in the hall was torn from its owner's hand and deposited at his feet. Voldemort grinned evilly and held up Dumbledore's head. "BRITAIN! WHERE ARE YOUR HEROES NOW?"

He laughed maniacally as the screaming crowds tried to flee the Atrium, but were prevented from doing so by yet another Fidelius Curse. It wouldn't work on the entire Ministry, unfortunately, but it certainly could seal the Atrium.

"ON YOUR KNEES! SURRENDER!" he yelled. Terrified beyond belief, everyone did exactly that.

* * *

A month later, things were going very smoothly. The Ministry had surrendered to him within the hour, and Hogwarts had followed suit not long afterwards. By the end of the week, his people had been installed in positions of power across the country, and every muggleborn, half-blood, and blood-traitor his Death Eaters could find had been locked inside the castle, with the exception of those in his service. The Potters and Longbottoms were still sealed inside their houses. By the end of the month, every single blood-supremacist, Death Eater, and loyal pure-blood had been located and invited to a massive party inside the former Wizengamot Hall. Wisely, not a single one refused the invitation.

As midnight approached, the party was still going strong, and no-one had left yet. Voldemort smiled secretly, and signaled to the half-bloods, muggleborns, and so-called non-humans in the hall to join him on the overlooking balconies. When they were all assembled, he shot off a firecracker from the Elder Wand to get the room's attention. When they were all looking up at him attentively, he began to speak. "My friends, my loyal friends, we have come a long way."

Cheering ensued.

"I know I could not have succeeded in this mighty venture without your help. Therefore, I have decided to bestow upon you all a great reward: a new world, ripe for the taking."

More cheering. He actually had to cast a protective charm on his ears at that point to protect himself from going deaf.

"I am speaking, of course, of what lies beyond the Veil."

They didn't have time to even whisper in shock as he cast the Fidelius Curse on the room. He and those on the balconies, of course, were outside the curse's scope.

"You petty, bigoted scum," Voldemort snapped. "Did you really think I was telling you the truth all these years? I'd like to tell you a story." He smiled, and removed the complex illusions on his body, revealing his true features: a handsome human face with a full head of dark, wavy hair. The glowing red eyes were all that remained. And now for the _coup de grace_. "I am Lord Voldemort. But I was born Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Even more shocked whispers filled the room.

"When I arrived at Hogwarts, I was Sorted into Slytherin House, where I was looked down on for my muggle heritage. I swore not to let this stop me, however, and I swore vengeance on the petty, shortsighted bigots who looked down their noses at me and others like me. It was then that I decided that I would do anything and everything to tear down this injustice and usher in a new age of freedom, acceptance, and equality. I decided that I would slaughter all those who would hold up the old system, _every single one of them_ , so that such an abomination could never rise again. So, I cultivated a following of the very bigoted filth who would oppose me. I delved into the Dark Arts. I unlocked the darkest and vilest magic in my quest for power. Eventually, I became Lord Voldemort. I raised an army. I led raids against weakly-defended targets, before moving onto stronger targets as my power grew. Eventually, I conquered magical Britain and threw the head of the man they said I feared at their feet. Which brings us to today. I have brought every single blood-purist and bigot in the country here tonight. And now, I avenge every werewolf, every vampire, every house-elf, every giant, every goblin, every muggle, every squib, every dragon, every muggleborn you have ever crushed beneath your gilded feet. Goodbye, my loyal Death Eaters. Die well knowing you have helped bring about the eternal rise of the very people you sought to enslave. _Ignis Infernum._ "

The crowds of bigots did not even have time to scream as Fiendfire fuelled by all the long centuries of bigotry, hate, and pain consumed them. When nothing but ash remained in the hall below, he ended the spell.

And, at long last, there was peace.


End file.
